


Failed Rituals

by enderfetch, vanishedSchism



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, M/M, Necromancy, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enderfetch/pseuds/enderfetch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishedSchism/pseuds/vanishedSchism
Summary: That's all it was- a way to escape. The ritual had failed, the man had died, and Caleb Widogast was supposed to get off freely with his new bounty. He could escape Trent Ikithon and what he had done.But nothing could be that simple.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of the absolute pleasure that was Critical Robin! We were assigned a group and passed a fanfic around, each writing a chapter for it. I was on #teamcaleb and I couldn't have asked for a better group to work with! I'm so honored that I could work with such skilled people and I'm really happy with the result!
> 
> Check out everyone's finished fics on the #critical robin tag on Tumblr, or go to @bboiseux on there for a complete list when it's up!

Caleb hadn’t expected to be pulled into a conversation. The patrons of the table next to Nott and Caleb had caught her eye- or, more importantly, their gold. The group consisted of a small blue tiefling, a simple-looking human girl, and half-orc with a scar penetrating his face. He barely paid mind to the odd trio at first, not wanting to draw attention to either him or Nott, even as one took to insulting his attire and scent. His interest wasn’t roused until a commotion began at the entrance to the tavern.

 

His breath caught as he saw the figure in the doorway. Purple hair framed his lavender face, piercings dangling off of his horns. A tattoo crept up the side of his neck. Faded scars painted his skin, ranging from his chest to his arms. He wore extravagant and expensive clothing that probably was worth more gold than Caleb made in his entire life.

 

_ A knock echoed through the abandoned house. Light pierced through the broken window, the sun beginning to shine on the borders of Rexxentrum, unobstructed in the empty field. The windows were smashed in and the only furnishings of the house were almost too broken to even consider using. _

 

_ Caleb was roused by the knocking. He laid on a couch that was itchy and creaked with every movement he made, only covered from prying eyes with an old blanket. He groaned, covering his eyes as the sun bore into them. It had only been a month since Caleb escaped the asylum and he still wasn’t used seeing the blinding sun.  _

 

_ He didn’t move until he heard the knocking again. He finally stood up, grabbing his only possessions from his past; a dirty cloak and an old tome. He hid the tome under the cloak before opening the door a crack. In front of him stood a black-furred tabaxi. He blinked a few times, unsure if he was still dreaming. He had never seen a tabaxi anywhere near Rexxentrum. He frowned as he looked past her, seeing a group of hooded figures. _

 

_ “How did you find me?” he asked, his voice gravely from not speaking to another living soul in months. _

 

_ “A friend of ours,” the tabaxi said. “We need your help.” _

 

_ “No one should know I’m here. Who is this friend?” _

 

_ “All can be explained, but time is of the essence. We can give you good compensation.” _

 

_ “What compensation can you provide?” _

 

_ The tabaxi gestured to one of the hooded figures and they stepped forward. Underneath the cloak, Caleb could see they were a Triton. They held out a large sack and shook it, hearing the jingle of coins. Caleb quickly grabbed it and opened the bag. Gold coins met his gaze, easily a few hundred. He looked into the decrepit old building he was staying in and slowly nodded. _

 

_ “Come in before anyone sees you,” Caleb said and opened the door. _

 

_ The hooded figures filed in. The tabaxi shook Caleb’s hand, muttering, “Thank you, thank you. We cannot express our gratitude enough.” _

 

_ “Don’t be so quick to thank me,” Caleb said and set the bag on the windowsill, right where he could see it no matter where he was. “What do you need me to do?” _

 

_ The largest figure moved towards the table. Caleb just realized they were carrying something over their shoulder, but it bore the same dark robes the rest of the group worse. They set it on the table, gently moving the cloth away from its face. _

 

_ It was a tiefling. His short hair barely fell over his lavender face, his horns chipped and broken. His face looked sunken in, almost like a corpse. The group gently moved the robes away until he was in normal peasant underclothing. The rest of his body seemed as weak and lifeless as his face. If not for the slow rising of his chest, Caleb would have thought he was a corpse. _

 

_ “This is our leader,” the tabaxi explained, moving towards the tiefling and gently stroking his hair. “He is ill, and if you do not help us, he will die.” _

 

_ Caleb looked upon the tiefling, asking, “It would do you better to go to a healer. This is not my expertise.” _

 

_ She looked up at him, saying, “But you have the tome.” _

 

_ Caleb instinctively reached to the book at his side, hissing out, “How did you know about that?” _

 

_ “A ritual in there can save him! We tracked down the book to you,” she said, quickly moving to him. “Please, if you help us you get all that gold and we will be forever indebted to you. You must help us.” _

 

_ Caleb looked upon her in silence for a few moments. The desperation on her face was clear. Although he could not see the others’ faces, he saw how they stood around the tiefling like they were protecting him. Like they admired him, or something even more. He had a nagging feeling that there was more that he didn’t know and shouldn’t get into, but the gold on the windowsill called to him. He could flee Rexxentrum, start a new life away from the Academy. _

 

_ He took out the tomb from under his cloak, saying, “I accept.” _

 

“Caleb?” Nott asked, shaking his arm and pulling him out of his thoughts.

 

“You good, bud?” The monk, Beau, asked, leaning towards him.

 

Caleb blinked a few times, slowly nodding. He saw the man and his companion starting to go from table to table and took a deep breath. He stood up and grabbed Nott’s shoulder, saying, “Well, it’s been nice meeting you all, but we must be off.”

 

Nott gave him an odd look but nodded, seeming to sense something wrong. He started towards the stairs with a brisk pace. He barely heard the monk calling after them in surprise as they both went back up to their room. As soon as the door was closed, Caleb ran towards the window and opened it up, peeking his head out. He looked around and saw some crates piled up close to their room. He poked his head back in and gestured to Nott, pointing to the boxes.

 

She got the hint and climbed out of the window, hopping onto the boxes. Once seeing that they were stable, she gave Caleb a thumbs up and climbed down the rest of the way. Caleb started to climb out of the window. As he gripped the ledge, he scraped his finger on a loose nail. He hissed softly as he felt blood start to well up. He quickly dropped down on the boxes and wiped away the blood on his cloak. Nott was standing at the end of the alleyway, glancing out into the street.

 

“Why do people here have to wake up so early?” Nott muttered as Caleb walked over to her.

 

“Any way out?” He asked quietly.

 

“There’s a lot of people out now, not many places to go,” Nott said, pointing to a road leading out of town. “But there’s a circus here and people are focusing on them. It’ll be easier to blend in. We might even be able to snatch some purses!”

 

“Not now, we gotta hurry,” Caleb said, Nott looking up at him in shock.

 

He ignored the gaze, starting to hurry towards the road. He lowered his head and his hair dangled over his dirty face. He was vaguely aware of Nott following at his side as they pushed through the crowd of people enamored by the odd mix of people at the circus. They headed on the road out of town, Caleb constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t followed. No one was there, but he couldn’t stop his anxiety.

 

They walked along the path until they made their way to a lake. Some fishermen were out on the lake, but none seemed to take note of them for too long. Caleb sighed, “Let’s stop for a bit and figure out where to go next.”

 

“Caleb,” Nott pipped up as he sat next to a tree, “What’s up? Why did we have to go?”

 

“I saw someone there that I needed to get away from,” Caleb said.

 

“Do… do we need to worry about them?” Nott pried, anxiety filling her voice.

 

“It was… someone from my past,” Caleb muttered. “All you need to know that this person is  _ incredibly _ powerful and dangerous. So powerful that his friends resorted to necromancy to bring him back.”

 

Nott knit her eyebrows together, saying slowly, “Caleb, what did you do?”

 

“I made a mistake helping someone. But it shouldn’t have worked! He’s supposed to be dead-”

 

“Who’s supposed to be dead?”

 

The two froze, slowly turning around to face the source of the voice. Red eyes stared down at the two of them from the road leading into town. Five people stood on the road back to town. The trio they had run into at the tavern, ranging from looking curious to irritated to worried. The large woman who had been a part of the commotion at the tavern stood there, her greatsword looking even more menacing as she glared at them. Finally, Caleb’s heart dropped in his stomach as he stared upon the face of the tiefling he had been trying to run from this whole time.

 

Lucien.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who's supposed to be dead?" Lucien asked, his voice heavy with fake sincerity.

 

_ You,  _ Caleb almost said, but that was stupid. "My ah, ah..." 

 

Why couldn't he  _ think  _ of anything? Probably because it didn't matter, a bit of grime wasn't going to disguise the man who promised to make you immortal. 

 

Damn book. 

 

Damn decisions. 

 

"Your manners, apparently." Lucien held out a hand, "my name is Mollymauk, Molly to my friends." 

 

Caleb glanced at Nott, who looked as confused as him, then at Lucien's hand. There was a snake wrapping around it, a brilliant green tattoo that ended in a ruby head on the back of his hand. 

 

The ruby, the  _ scar,  _ jerked Caleb out of his reverie. 

 

"I am very late for an appointment," he said, "Wizards do not like to be kept waiting." And then he ran the other direction. 

 

_ "I need more information," Caleb said, frowning at the scribbled notes in laid out on the table in front of him. He hasn't opened the book yet, though the tabaxi has asked about it every hour on the dot.  _

 

_ "We've told you-"  _

 

_ "You've told me nothing," he snapped, "I understand your desire for secrecy, but this is a precise and finicky ritual and all of your details are important."  _

 

_ The tabaxi looked like she was about to leap across the table and hold a knife to his throat until he agreed to work with her, but his mysterious patient slowly raised a desiccated hand and she stood down.  _

 

_ He still looked closer to dead than alive, but his eyes had opened -yellow, pupiless- and seemed to be watching Caleb as he wrote.  _

 

_ His voice, when he spoke, sounded like two pieces of sanding paper rubbing together. Caleb jumped out of his chair, startled, and the tiefling's lips curved up into a cracked smile.  _

 

_ "Ask your questions Wizard," he rasped.  _

 

_ "I need to know the state of your soul."   _

 

_ "Ooh, personal. Buy me dinner first," the tiefling said with a snort, and Caleb must be crazy because he had the sudden thought that man was rather handsome. If ragged.  _

 

_ "Right," Caleb said, bobbing his head, "well, that will be good because you need to eat. I will not have you drop dead at my table."  _

 

_ Based on how the tabaxi paled at that, Caleb guessed that this was not the first time this tiefling had been so close to death's door.  _

 

_ "Cree," he heard the man rasp as he turned toward his kitchen, "please give the wizard and I privacy. We are his guests." _

 

_ Caleb just caught the edge of an irritated growl as the woman rounded up her colleagues and left the room.  _

 

_ "I will get blankets soon!" Caleb called, putting on tea. It was important to be a good host. Even to necromancers.  _

 

_ He made some Zemnian Bitters, a pick-me up from home with caffeine, cinnamon and cloves. The three Cs. He paired that with warm bread and sweet jam, nothing near what the emaciated tiefling (or wizard himself) needed, but good enough in these hard times.  _

 

_ When he returned to the table, he saw that the tiefling's eyes had closed and once again he looked more like a corpse than a living being. Caleb sat down and pushed a plate and cup toward his guests.  _

 

_ The yellow eyes opened into thin slits and the man slowly reached for the tea.  _

 

_ "It will wake you up," Caleb supplied. _

 

_ "Just what I-" he broke off, coughing, and dry flakes of red, Caleb knew enough to recognize dried blood, landed on the table, "-excuse me." The tiefling continued to cough, though into his elbow this time. When he was done, his lips were red. He quickly sipped the tea and after a moment said, "Just what I need, thank you."  _

 

_ "You have died before, ja?"  _

 

_ The tiefling smiled. "Right to the point. I like that." His eyes were fully open now and Caleb couldn't help but feel like those eyes could look right into his soul. Maybe it was that, rather than the secrets of the book, that had brought this particular tiefling to his door. He clenched his jaw and stared the man down. They both had darkness in them.  _

 

_ The tiefling nodded. "Not quite."  _

 

"Caleb!" Nott said, shaking his shoulder. "What is going on? That man saw you, do we need to leave? Kill him? Both?" 

 

Caleb shook his head but any more coherent thought was impossible. Ideas and explanations ran through his head but trying to say any single one was like trying to grab smoke. 

 

Nott knew this. She waited. 

 

"He is dangerous," Caleb finally said. "He is dangerous and he should be dead. He has friends but I did not see them. He is going to do bad things Nott. Very bad things." 

 

"Then we should leave." 

 

It was hardly even a suggestion. It was just common sense. But. But. 

 

Caleb had been the cause of so much pain, so much suffering, so much destruction. 

 

A man like Lucien... he was on the edge when Caleb knew him, standing at the precipice to a power that he couldn't imagine. And Caleb has stood there with him. 

 

He was a demon. If he wasn't when Cree brought him to Caleb's hut in Shady Creek Run, he certainly was now. And Caleb had made him that way. It was his responsibility to fix. 

 

"Nott, my friend. We have to stop him." 

 

_ Caleb arched his eyebrow.  _

 

_ "Fine. I'm getting there," the man said, sharpness coloring his tone for the first time. "First, my name is Lucien, since you haven't asked." He glared up at Caleb, as if challenging him to respond with his own name. _

 

_ "You know mine," he said, "at least your cult does."  _

 

_ "Fair enough, Mr. Widogast. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I suppose it's time to explain my condition."  _

 

_ First though, he drained the rest of his tea. His voice was slightly less scratchy, but he still paused frequently as he spoke, and occasionally coughed into his arm. _

 

_ "I can't answer all your questions. Yes, don't look so upset. I have a sponsor, shall we say, or did, until recently. They ask for what they need and not why, I'm sure you understand that."  _

 

_ And there was that unnerving gaze again. Caleb shoved a piece of bread in his mouth and broke the tiefling's - Lucien's - gaze.   _

 

_ "They wanted blood," Lucien said. "Drain him until he faints, I believe was the phrasing. And before you ask, no I don't know what happened with the blood but the knives were ceremonial. Dragon glass."  _

 

_ "And you did not give this... benefactor... anything else? None of your hair or nails? Perhaps a bit of your horns?" _

 

_ One of Lucien's hands fluttered up toward his horns, but it didn't seem to have the energy to get far off the table. He sighed and closed his eyes. "No, the horns were something else." He hesitated and then looked up at Caleb. He looked exhausted. Caleb hadn't seen the tiefling when he was healthy, but the pallor, the almost grey tint to his otherwise lavender skin couldn't be healthy.   Not to mention the way he barely seemed to breathe. It was all uncanny. And familiar. Except for the irritating grin. That was entirely Lucien.  _

 

_ "Are you going to tell me what?"  _

 

_ "Yes, but I wanted you to look at me a little longer."  _

 

_ "Would you like more tea?" Caleb gritted out.   _

 

_ "The injuries of myself and my crew happened recently. We had to flee our benefactor. The ritual had been getting progressively more complex and this time was supposed to be the last." Lucien broke off to cough, but this time he didn't continue when he was done. He stared at his arm as if he wasn't really seeing it, with his mouth slightly open.  _

 

_ And then he shuddered, full body, and it was as if a spell had broken. Black liquid dripped from every one of his still healing scars, and this time when he coughed it was globules of blood and that same black bile.  _

 

_ Lucien fell out of his chair.  _


	3. Chapter 3

"We cannot go back to that tavern. Not tonight," Caleb told Nott. He walked too quickly, worrying his thumbs over the loose frayed ends of his coat sleeves as he stalked away,  _ away _ , with no mind for direction besides whichever way would put the most distance between Lucien and themselves.   
  
They had to get away from him, at least for now.    
  
They couldn't risk being found again before they had a plan.   
  
Caleb kept his gaze trained on the ground and kept his strides long. More than once, he caught himself leaving Nott behind and cursed under his breath as he slowed his pace to let her close the gap.    
  
They could hardly fight him out in the open; that much was obvious. He had already been immensely powerful before Caleb had gotten involved with him. After the ritual - the ritual that should never have worked, that had come both too little and too late - Caleb didn't want to know what kind of threat Lucien might be. He couldn't fathom it.   
  
He could just keep going, run again, out into the woods—   
  
—but Nott's small hand reached up and touched his own, reaching up to wrap around two of his fingers. "Hey," she whispered up at him, concerned. "Caleb? Caleb, it's gonna be alright"—   
  
—and he remembered to breathe.   
  
Caleb nodded thinly, hollowly; even if he didn't believe that, it did him some kind of good to heard it said aloud. Even if Nott didn't believe it, either, that would be alright. Not everything had to be really true to be important.    
  
"We have to... figure out what it is that we're doing," he explained, leaning back against the stonework wall beside them. The stones were rough and cool and solid. He slid down the wall out of sheer tightly-wound exhaustion, ending up at a sort of half-squat nearly at eye level with Nott. "I don't know what can be done against him. I-I don't know if anything can," he admitted.   
  
"Are you sure this is who you're thinking of? He said his name was Molly. Mollymauk."   
  
"I'm sure," Caleb said. Yes, he'd given a different name; grown his hair out; gotten a tattoo; his eyes—his eyes!—had changed, and so had his companions: Cree, that tabaxi, hadn't been anywhere to be seen, Caleb realized now. But Lucien still had those  _ scars _ , bright and furiously red, and they answered every other question.    
  
Nott nodded. "Okay. Okay, I trust you." She glanced from side to side, then offered Caleb a hand up. Tugged on his sleeve with fear and impatience in her eyes, more to the point, but it did get Caleb standing again.    
  
He brushed himself off then continued on his way, slowly enough to make sure Nott stayed at his hand. Her hand was looped back into his own again as he looked at building fronts, trying to spot another inn or even an unwatched garden. Anywhere to stay, just for the one night. It would be better if they could flee Trostenwald entirely, as far as their own safety and security went, but then they would have no assurance that Lucien was still here, either.   
  
In time, they did find a much smaller, dirtier place to stay; Caleb blended in quite comfortably, relieved as he slid over a few silver for two drinks, a warm bed, and no questioning from an overworked barmaid who couldn't care less what they did. "Leave no mess and we're peachy," she groused, buffing out an ale spill with a thin rag.   
  
"We won't," Nott promised. "We're very respectable!"   
  
"Aye, that's what the last ones what I didn't recognize said to me. Any more blood on the walls and I'll get someone sent after you, I will."   
  
As Nott squawked in response, Caleb maneuvered her across the room and upstairs. Their rented room was fine enough. It had walls and a door, at any rate, which was better than their usual so far. More than that, it was theirs, and came with both a key and a functioning lock. Caleb made sure it was shut. "Let me tell you... let me tell you more about Lucien."

_ As soon as Lucien's body hit the floorboards, Caleb froze up; not a second later, Cree's sharp claws dug into his shoulders as she rounded on him. "What did you do?!" _ __   
__   
_ "I didn't—I didn't do anything, this wasn't me, I—" _ __   
__   
_ He was only freed by her panic. She let go of him, wrenching away to rush to Lucien—Lucien's body?—on the ground. Desperately, she turned him over, brushing the soft fur of her hand over his pale, wasted cheeks. _ __   
__   
_ She was whispering something down at him, but Caleb couldn't make out the words. _ __   
__   
_ Lucien was still breathing, but only barely. He'd bumped his head as he fell. His horn, it seemed, had turned brittle with his illness; the small impact was enough that another piece of it had broken off to lie beside him on the floorboards. _ __   
__   
_ Caleb's mouth was parted in shock as he stepped close. He bent down, fingers closing over the piece of broken horn until Cree saw him and smacked his hand away.  _ __   
__   
_ "The tome," she hissed. Tears were wetting the corners of her eyes. "Get the tome! We've taken far too long already!" _ __   
__   
_ "I-I don't know what this is," Caleb protested, grabbing the heavy book and flipping to the first thing he thought might be relevant. He shook his head, then glanced at something else, and all the while Cree paced around him, ears flattened angrily against her skull. "I'm sorry, I don't know what this is, I'm sorry; Lucien was vague about the cause of the situation and if I don't know what started this, I can't be sure how to fix it—" _ __   
__   
_ Cree's eyes widened. "He's a  _ warlock _." _ __   
__   
_ Caleb's hand stilled on top of an open page. He looked at Lucien again, at the black liquid seeping from his wounds. More and more of them had opened up now, even ones that had seemed long since healed-over when Caleb had last looked. The dark magic wracking his body was dragging it physically back in time, opening him up at the seams. It was trying to unwrite him to make some living space for itself. _ __   
__   
_ Hurriedly, Caleb turned to another page. The spells and rituals described in this book involved workings with shadowy powers, even evil ones. He had yet... he had yet to find anything that could help him, but he did, he thought, recognize this. _ __   
__   
_ Whatever Lucien's benefactor—no, his patron—had supposedly been doing for him hadn't done him very much good. He had been a tool, a means to an end, a weapon. _ __   
__   
_ He was too far gone to be brought back to himself like his cult wanted. Caleb couldn't save him. _ __   
__   
_ But he could stop this in its tracks. _ __   
__   
"So he's a—what, Caleb, a, a  _ demon  _ now? A  _ fiend _ ?"   
  
Caleb shook his head, biting a nail. "I don't know. Right now, that is the big fat problem here; what I did for him should have cleared it out completely. He should have died. He should have just simply died, like anyone else." He didn't know what Lucien was now. He didn't even know whether it still made sense to call him Lucien. What if he was someone else now, some __ thing else?    
  
Caleb couldn't make heads nor tails of it. He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, his nerves strung taut in an anxious, aching tangle.   
  
Nott tiptoed closer. She fidgeted her hands together, nervously worrying at the bandage wraps. "Do you still have that book? Maybe there's something in it that explains this, something you missed before?"   
  
"There isn't," Caleb answered. "I read through it all while looking for—ah, something else. There's nothing about this." He paused, running his tongue out over his lips, dry and chapped. "And, no. I don't have the book."    
  
Frumpkin mewled at his wound his way around Caleb's legs, bumping his soft head against Caleb's ankle in a comforting gesture. He hopped up onto the bed a moment later, allowing Caleb to scratch him behind the ears. As Nott leaned in to pet the fey cat, Caleb swallowed around possibly the first good idea he'd had all night. He scratched all around Frumpkin's little head, comforted by the rumbling purr and soft, slow blink of his eyes.    
  
"My friend," he whispered, "I'll need to borrow your eyes and ears tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

Caleb had never been to the circus before. Nott’s claw was pierced right into his hand, steering him along as he was blind and deaf to anything around his own body. His senses had migrated to Frumpkin, who was in the middle of the melting pot that was the circus. There were many legs to account for and avoid, especially once Frumpkin made his way past the queue to enter the main tent undetected, but the cat was, luckily, used to this sort of outing, if normally by his own accord.

 

It was Caleb’s hope to engage in a bit of reconnaissance; if Lucien was capable of rising from the grave despite all odds, there was no telling what he would be capable of  _ now _ , and Caleb didn’t want to be caught with his trousers around his ankles. Another point of interest was Lucien’s new traveling companion, the large woman with the menacing broadsword.

 

Right before Frumpkin entered the tent, Caleb spotted his object of interest: Lucien and the large woman, chatting with the three assholes from the other table this morning. Apparently, they weren’t performers, but rather a type of doorman. Well, that should hopefully make reconnaissance easier. Caleb urged Frumpkin to move in closer, so he could hear their words, and Frumpkin did so dutifully.

 

“Five gold??” the blue-clad human woman exclaimed just as Frumpkin came within hearing distance.

 

The tall, pale woman shrugged. “These arms are worth a lot,” she assured the other woman.

 

It was at this point Lucien piped in: “It’s a nice, swaddling hug; there’s nothing quite like it,” he said with his eyebrows raised for effect.

 

“Oh my gosh, you guys, look! It’s a kitty!” a high-pitched voice rang through the rest like a particularly loud bell: the blue tiefling had spotted Frumpkin. Caleb resisted the urge to snap Frumpkin away or pull himself out of Frumpkin’s senses, and was rewarded when the tiefling picked Frumpkin up, began baby-talking at him, and carried him towards the others. All of the others looked to the cat with varying degrees of interest as the tiefling held him out. “A kitty!” she repeated, victoriously, and returned Frumpkin to her safe embrace. “I hope it hasn’t lost its way… I didn’t think cats liked loud noises and busy places that much.”

 

“It probably thinks it can find some food,” the human woman mused. “Like some abandoned fries. Lots of animals do that.”

 

“You’re such a brave little kitty,” the tiefling now praised Frumpkin, scratching him on the chin, “going in here to get food even though it’s scary. You probably wouldn’t like going inside with us, though, that’s probably not something you would like.”

 

Through Frumpkin’s eyes, Caleb saw the relieved expressions of the human woman and the orcish man, and the half-amused smirk on Lucien’s face.

 

“I’ll keep him company,” Lucien suggested, and after only a few seconds of pause, the blue tiefling handed Frumpkin over. Those red eyes still puzzled Caleb. How could they be red? “Animals tend to like me. I think they can feel we have a lot in common.” Frumpkin, placed in Lucien’s arms as he was, couldn’t see Lucien, but Caleb was pretty sure he heard a smile caress that voice. “Go on, then, Yasha will show you to your seats. I’ll stay out here with this little fella; I’ve seen the show plenty of times already.”

 

The blue tiefling leaned in and kissed Frumpkin on the forehead. “I will help you find your family when I come back,” she promised him solemnly before following the rest into the tent.

 

As soon as the rest were gone, Lucien held up Frumpkin and stared him directly in the eyes. There was a slight smirk on his face. “You know, it’s easier than you’d think, identifying a fey companion,” he said calmly. Caleb’s heart nearly jumped out of his now-agape mouth. Shit, fuck, Scheiße. “If you wanted to get to know me better, you should’ve just asked me out for drinks. I certainly wouldn’t have been opposed; you’ve got this rugged look that’s quite charming, Mister ‘Wizards Don’t Like to Be Kept Waiting’. So. Let me offer you this: I will stay right here, and you will come meet me yourself. And we’ll talk about this issue you seem to have with me.”

 

Caleb swallowed. He felt stupid for thinking a reconnaissance mission could have been easy, but he wasn’t sure of where to go from here. It would be idiotic to meet such a powerful person alone – a person, who had to know who Caleb was, and sense what danger he posed. On the other hand, what else could he do? Run away and live with the fact that not only had he killed his parents, but afterwards he had set loose a dangerous magic user?

 

No.

 

No, he had to fix at least this one mistake of his. He had to prove to himself that it was possible, that he could fix  _ everything _ .

 

So he retreated back into his own body and told Nott he had to go and talk to someone.

 

Nott immediately frowned and drew her crossbow. “It’s that Lucien-demon, isn’t it??” she demanded. “I won’t let you go alone! I’m coming with you!”

 

“Nott –”

 

“I promise not to shoot him until you say it’s alright!”

 

Caleb faltered. “ _ Ja _ , okay,” he gave up with a sigh. It wasn’t like he could stop her if she really wanted to go; she knew how to stick to the shadows so that she could not be seen by anyone, not even by him. “But we are just talking.”

 

“Whatever you say, Caleb, but I’ll be ready to shoot off his dick, just say the word!”

 

That made Caleb chuckle. “It will not be necessary, but okay. Come on, he is expecting us.”

 

It was easy to find Lucien. Caleb only had to follow the same route Frumpkin had walked, but even if he had walked without Frumpkin as reference, he could have simply followed the path to the giant tent and take a slight left detour. Here Lucien was pacing leisurely with Frumpkin in his arms. The orange tabby immediately took notice of Caleb when he arrived, and easily escaped Lucien’s hold to trot next to Caleb. Lucien’s eyes slowly raked from Frumpkin and across Caleb’s body until his red, red, red eyes settled on Caleb’s face, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

 

“If it isn’t Mister ‘Wizards Don’t Like to Be Kept Waiting’.”

 

“You knew it was me. How?”

 

Lucien shrugged. “Just a lucky guess, really. You’re the weirdest thing that’s happened to me within the last couple of days, so it makes sense the next weird thing should be related to you. Who are you?”

 

Caleb frowned. It had been a few years, but his disguise of poverty was almost entirely unchanged since the last time they saw each other, and while Lucien had been near unconsciousness for much of it, Caleb would think he’d remember the man, who absolved the deal between he and his deity.

 

“You don’t recognize me?”

 

Instant panic washed over Lucien. Caleb could see it happen: muscles tensing, jaw clenching… “Sorry, I’m not very good at names. Or faces, really, but you do look familiar. Where is it we know each other from again?”

 

Caleb just stared in response.

 

Lucien drew in a breath to hold behind a pair of pursed lips, but when Caleb still didn’t speak, he let out the air in a sigh. “Look, whatever I did, I’m sorry I was a jerk, but I am  _ really _ bad at names. Did we sleep together and did I sneak out of the window before you woke up?” It was obviously a joke, but it unnerved Caleb; their shared past was nothing to mock.

 

“You should be dead.”

 

That statement didn’t seem to shock Lucien, for all that he grimaced with mock-dramatics. “You wound me, really, you do. As it happens, though, I’m  _ not _ . And you know what else I’m not? Enjoying this conversation. So if you wouldn’t mind quitting your stalking and letting me alone, that’d be  _ great _ .”

 

“Do you need me to shoot him, Caleb??” Nott’s voice rang out, but when Lucien didn’t react, Caleb guessed she had used the Message spell he had taught her, so he just breathed out a quiet ‘ _ nein _ ’ in response.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Hm?  _ Nichts _ , nothing. I like to think out loud.”

 

Lucien narrowed his eyes at him. “We’ll pretend I buy that lie,” he concludes with a smirk that has come back for vengeance. “Then I imagine you have nothing more to say, that’s good to hear. I’m sort of at work at the moment.”

 

Something was wrong. Off. It was like getting out of the bed while a leg was asleep. Like being blind to the darkness on only one eye from having started at the flames with one and having the other pressed into the sleeping bag.

 

It was what made Caleb say, as Lucien drew away: “ _ Wait _ . One drink. One drink where we can discuss all of this, truthfully, and I will leave you alone.”  _ For now _ , he added quietly, because if all of these instincts of oddity were just harmless observations of a man he didn’t know all that well, rather than incriminating evidence of something  _ else _ going on, he would have to take care of this. He would have to fix this mistake. But luckily Caleb had no qualms about lying.

Lucien studied him for a moment. Then he nodded, slowly. “Alright, if it can’t be any different. One drink, after the show.”


	5. Chapter 5

“After the show” soon became “after we hopefully don’t get arrested” and then “after we figure out what’s wrong with this damn carnival.” But Caleb didn’t like to wait. Even though everyone in the carnival swore up and down that they had nothing to do with the murders, his thoughts always came back to Lucien. This couldn’t be some coincidence; this powerful, possibly-undead warlock  _ not  _ being responsible for the dead attacking? It didn’t add up.   
  
That was how Caleb ended up in Fjord’s room when everyone was downstairs. He excused himself from the table, claiming that he felt ill, and managed to convince Nott to stay with the others. He had entertained the thought that she could be hiding somewhere, but didn’t bother dwelling on it. He trusted her enough that her eavesdropping didn’t exactly bother him, but he was lying if he said he wasn’t worried for her safety.   
  
He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard someone walking down the hall. He sucked in a breath and pressed against the wall, praying to whatever god would hear him that it wasn’t Fjord hitting the hay early. He didn’t exactly want to explain what he was doing there.   
  
The door opened. Caleb was both relieved and anxious when he saw the dark purple horns poke out. As soon as Lucien walked into the room, Caleb came out of the shadows and shut the door. Lucien grabbed his swords with cat-like reflexes, but Caleb was prepared. He summoned a mage hand and pinned Lucien against the wall, readying a fire bolt.   
  
“What did you do to that man at the carnival?” Caleb demanded. “And if you say it wasn’t you, you better have a good damn story as to what the hell you’re doing here.”   
  
Panic and anger burned in Lucien’s red gaze. He struggled against the grasp but, realizing he couldn’t free himself, slumped against the wall. “I didn’t do anything, alright?”   
  
“Bullshit!” Caleb said, the fire in his hands blazing brighter.   
  
“It’s the truth! Now, how about you let me go and we can talk this out, alright?” Lucien said.   
  
He tried to hide it, but Caleb could hear the shakiness and uncertainty in his voice. He dispelled the mage hand and fire bolt, but kept the incantation in mind. Lucien slowly made his way over to a bed and plopped down on it, putting his head in his hands.   
  
“You… okay?” Caleb slowly asked, sitting on the other bed.   
  
Lucien laughed, raising his gaze to meet Caleb’s. “Yeah, first I’m met with someone who knows… that person from before, then some old dude explodes and my friends are blamed, and now I’m being threatened for fucking existing here! I’m having a fantastic day, what about you?”   
  
Caleb’s eyes narrowed and he muttered, “You can’t blame me. All of this is too convenient-”   
  
“I don’t know what the  _ fuck  _ you’re talking about, and I don’t want to,” Lucien said.   
  
Caleb opened his mouth as to say something, then closed it again. His head spun as he looked over Lucien. Despite the fact that he was very obviously the same tiefling, he looked so, so different. Besides the obvious- his eyes, not being on the verge of death, many of the tattoos were new. All that were left from before were the ruby scars. His hair had grown longer and his horns had seemed to grow back. Lucien had a cold, eerie aura following him when Caleb first met him. Now, he felt much warmer, more… colorful.   
  
“Listen,” Caleb started. “People don’t just come back from some necroman-”   
  
Lucien held out a hand and shook his head, hissing out, “Stop, stop, don’t go on. I’m just as confused about this as you are, but I don’t want to know what happened.”   
  
“You… what?” Caleb asked.   
  
“I don’t remember anything before waking up in the ground two years ago,” Lucien said, looking Caleb straight in the eyes. “Whoever that person was, whatever he did, that is not me. Whatever you knew him as, that’s not me, let’s get that straight right now. My name is Molly. That is who I am.”   
  
Caleb slowly nodded, saying, “Then why did you bother talking to me?”   
  
“You insisted,” Lu- Mollymauk said, shrugging. “In all honesty… I’m fucking terrified. You’re right, people don’t just wake up in some empty grave. I needed to know if I was in danger or not. But now… there’s something else.”   
  
“What is it?”   
  
“You mentioned necromancy, and I’m no wizard, but that shit at the circus seemed pretty necrotic to me. I need… I just need to know enough to know that it’s not my fault,” Mollymauk said.   
  
Caleb scoffed, “Wouldn’t you know if it was your fault or not?”   
  
Mollymauk shook his head, saying, “Maybe not. Since I’ve woken up, I’ve been able to do… shit that I can’t explain how or why I can. I’m hoping it’s not, but you’re right, it could be me.”   
  
Caleb was hesitant, but eventually said, “I get it. So… what do you want to know?”   
  
“Answer what I ask, and only what I ask. Don’t elaborate unless I tell you to,” Mollymauk said, clearing his throat. “Were you part of why he was put in the ground?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Did it include necromancy?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“How?”   
  
“It was meant to save you.”   
  
“Save him. And…” Mollymauk sighed, laughing a bit as he rubbed the back of his head. “Doesn’t seem like it could make me do  _ that  _ shit, right?”   
  
“Well, that was not the purpose, but-”   
  
“Could it give me the power to turn a man into a walking death bomb, yes or no?”   
  
“... I don’t know. It wasn’t a ritual I-”   
  
“No elaboration,” Mollymauk groaned, but seemed much less anxious now. “That’s it. If it wasn’t obvious, let’s just hope it wasn’t me. Now, you promised to leave me alone after that. So go.”   
  
“Don’t think I can,” Caleb said. When Mollymauk raised an eyebrow, Caleb quickly added, “I mean, yeah, I can leave the room. But we’re kind of both being tried for the murder. Looks like whether we want to or not, we’re in this together.”   
  
Mollymauk let out a groan of frustration, but held up his hands in defeat. “You’ve got me there. Then, when we’re together, we’ll both keep quiet and hope it’s not me, a’ight?”   
  
“Why should I?” Caleb asked.   
  
Mollymauk laughed a bit, saying, “You want a bribe? You’re not getting one. I was just hoping you’d play the savior and keep this a secret for poor little me.”   
  
Caleb glared at Mollymauk but huffed, “Fine, because I don’t want this getting out. Not for you.”   
  
Mollymauk waved him off. “Whatever floats your boat. Now get out of here, I need to pray.”   
  
Caleb got up without a rebuttal and made his way to the door. Before he closed it, he looked back at Mollymauk. The tiefling was taking out his swords, laying them down on the group in front of him. Caleb realized that, looking into this person’s red eyes, maybe Mollymauk  _ was  _ different than Lucien.   
  
\--   
  
The past few weeks had been some of the most awkward that Caleb could remember. He had been stuck with the group, finding the thought of leaving them more terrifying than he’d like to admit. Nott had offered multiple times that they escaped, but he could tell she kind of liked the consistency and relative safety that came with the group. He would have, too, if he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder for the yellow eyes that he was always terrified would be staring back at him.   
  
Despite his paranoia, it was a good deal for a while. Their colorful group had taken a few jobs and came out of them alive, if not worse for wear. It wasn’t until Zadash when they ran into a problem. They had just gotten access to the Gentleman’s base. The group made their way down the stairs into the dark base, unsure of what the shady man had in mind for them.   
  
When Caleb saw her, he felt his blood run cold. The tabaxi stood at the base of the steps. He had remembered her. He remembered her face, begging him for his help, screaming at him for his ineptitude, refusing to meet his gaze when her friend was lowered into the ground. When she spotted him and Mollymauk, her face lit up as she grabbed Molly’s hand.   
  
“Lucien?” Cree asked joyfully. “It’s been so long! Was Caleb with you this whole time? What did he-”   
  
Caleb looked over at Mollymauk as she spoke. He tried to hide it with a smile, but he caught the hint of terror and panic painting his face for a moment. Mollymauk’s eyes- his crimson eyes- fell onto Caleb, anger and terror visible. Guilt washed over him. Caleb could see the confused faces of Fjord, Beauregard, and Jester behind him, felt Nott tugging on his hand.    
  
This was Mollymauk’s worst nightmare come to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for supporting me and the other authors in this fic! I just wanna take the opportunity to thank my team once again for the amazing experience I had <3


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